Sussex
by Runa93
Summary: A rather strange way of looking at the events when watson moves to Sussex if he did that is


The moment Holmes mentions the idea, Watson can sense a thousand untold things in the offing.

"There are plenty of people in the village too, my dear Watson, I'm sure you'll have no lack of practice-"

_Yes, I'm sure too,_ Watson thinks darkly.

It has been less then a month since his return from the war and it is clear that Sherlock Holms has a Plan. And when he has a Plan with a capital p, especially with _that_ glint in his eyes, Watson is very sure that no objection of his is going to work.

In less than two hours he has Watson convinced to move to Sussex with him. Actually he had him convinced within the first half an hour, but Watson has his pride.

Never mind the other host of changes Holmes has in mind.

"I was thinking of painting the sitting room blue." Says Holmes cheerfully at breakfast that morning. "It'll give a nice atmosphere to the surroundings, don't you think?"

Watson stops eating and stares at him.

"And of course, I would prefer to have some of your war medals on display as well…"

"What about," Watson can't help adding, "some of the illustrations done by Sidney Paget?"

"Capital idea." Says Holmes with cheerfulness which is normally unthinkable in a situation like this, causing Watson to choke on his cup of tea.

The next two weeks is a whirlwind of activity, mostly involving Holmes asking Watson's opinion of things that Watson has very little opinion of anyway, such as the color of the curtains, ehich bedroom he would prefer etc etc.

Lestrade comes to visit and collapses on a chair, watching slack jawed as Holmes bounds from one end of the room to another explaining enthusiastically about hives and fruit trees. At the end, Watson can tell he hasn't understood a word.

"It's all right." Watson whispers to him. "I haven't a clue what he's up to, either."

Lestrade closes his mouth. "I think he's really desperate for you to move, Doctor." Watson regards him, surprised.

"You think so?"

The former police inspector rolls his eyes.

…………………………………..

Just when Watson thinks the worst is over, disaster strikes in from of the Irregulars. Of course, they are all grown men now, Wiggins is now married (to an American!) and already a father, but in Holmes's and Watson's eyes they will always remain the little rag-tag bunch of children, the 'Baker Street Irregulars'.

On the eve of their leaving, they turn up with friends and families and friends of families and families of friends, so that all in all Baker Street is crammed from beginning to end.

"Well," Holmes says, after they leave, "It was good of them to visit one last time."

Watson has no idea what to say.

………………………………………..

On the day they are leaving, Watson is a quivering mass of nerves. Of course, he doesn't show it, really _which_ respectable ex-army general would, but his heart beats a trifle faster as he spots the two carriages which have come to pick them up.

He turns and looks one last towards Baker Street. Its windows shine gold in the light of the rising sun, and for a moment he is transfixed, lost in the memories of a time long gone, until Holmes leads him away.

To nobody's surprise, the Irregulars show up at the railway station and the whole of Scotland Yard as Watson remembers it; Lestrade, Gregson, Hopkins and the many constables half of whose names Watson does not remember. They are all mostly retired now, or on their way to senior posts. It makes Watson feel quite aged.

He clears his throat, thinking that a farewell speech of some capacity is required, but finds no words. To his relief, Holmes summaries all his emotions quite succinctly for him, "Goodbye and fare well."

And then they leave.

………………………………………….

The cottage is bigger than he remembers, but he never had a chance to visit Holmes properly till the war came, so he could be forgiven for his memory lapse.

Holmes has indeed painted the sitting room blue, but it is a refreshing color and does add a pleasant atmosphere. Watson is just grateful that he has not added the sunflowers and daisies he threatened.

Watson's room is on the eastern side of the cottage, facing the sea. It is about the same size as his rooms inBaker Street, and this brings back nostalgic memories. They have a small garden at the back, where Holmes grows fruit trees (the reason for which Watson is yet unable to comprehend) and keeps a small row of bee hives.

The bee hives are Holmes's passion. Night and day he is there, and Watson is returned to his old capacity of doctor, to make sure that he eats properly.

But once when he threatens to return to London for good unless Holmes learnt to feed himself, it was amazing how quickly Holmes picked up.

He continues his practice as a doctor; in the countryside there is no dearth of sickness, albeit minor ones. It is a comfortable and pleasant life.

On the weekends, they almost always have guests. Lestrade comes most of the times, sometimes accompanied by Gregson or Hopkins. Occasionally Mrs. Hudson's son Arthur drops in for a word or two. Of the Irregulars, Wiggins is the most frequent visitor. He brings along his wife and son too, at times.

The mornings almost have the same routine. They both sit down for breakfast, in the middle of which Holmes almost always leaves to check on his precious hives, leaving Watson to resignedly pile toast and eggs on his plate. When Holmes returns, excitedly expounding about some new discovery regarding his bees (how Holmes can be so interested in the lives of such minuscule insects, Watson never understands), Watson glares him down until he meekly sits down and finishes the rest of his breakfast.

In the evenings, when they sit together in companionable silence, looking out on the setting sun, and occasionally touching upon a subject, then Watson feels a slow calm settle into him. He settles back into his chair and regards their little life with a satisfaction which he felt Holmes shares.

**A/N: Overdoes of Caffeine with excessive boredom and sleep results in crazy fics like this. **

**I'm sure that everyone's realized that Holmes's is a **_**little **_**OOC in this, and so is Watson. I'm really sorry! Once I finished this fic, I couldn't bring myself to recheck it (it was 5 in the morning) so here is my unchecked and wierded out fic. **

**By the way, is anyone interested in being my beta? I really think my fics are getting out of hand now. Thanks again!**


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